


You Didn't Drink

by stephoxx



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Braime - Freeform, Canon Compliant, Consensual Sex, D&D were too cowardly to give us their sex scene so I'm doing the lord's work for them, F/M, First Time, Flirting, It's been out for a year though, Jaime not knowing how clothes work, Knight Brienne of Tarth, Loss of Virginity, Romance, Season 8, Spoilers, Vaginal Fingering, basically just Jaime being horny for Brienne for a few thousand words, do I still have to tag that?, honestly same though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:02:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23307250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stephoxx/pseuds/stephoxx
Summary: “You didn’t drink.” He had all but barged into her chamber the moment she opened the door, tumbling over his words the same way he tumbled past the fireplace.Because we were robbed of their first time and because I'm watching GoT again in quarantine. It's canon-compliant, technically. (But if this was longer than a oneshot, it wouldn't be.)
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 5
Kudos: 159





	You Didn't Drink

**Author's Note:**

> I’m sure this has been done a million times, but I know I never get tired of reading it. It’s literally just smut, but with feeling. PSA: Some actual dialogue in the show is sprinkled throughout to give it a little bit of extra context when needed.

_“You didn’t drink.” He had all but barged into her chamber the moment she opened the door, tumbling over his words the same way he tumbled past the fireplace._

_He was griping the way he always did. Going on about that damned game they played over dinner. And Brienne, although inexperienced overall, was experienced enough in Jaime to know that something was different this time._

He kissed her roughly, hungrily, and it reminded her of the first meal they shared together when he was finally let out of Robb Stark’s makeshift prison. As if no matter how much he consumed, it would never be enough. His lips searched hers in this same manner, crashing together repeatedly like waves against a rocky shoreline. 

Except it was soft. And it scorched Brienne’s insides as the flame carved itself a permanent place in her lower belly. 

She shuddered as the cool metal of his golden hand cupped the back of her neck to bring her closer to him. She was unsure of where her hands should go, although they felt quite nice no matter where she put them. And as she rested them on his chest, she could feel the thudding of his heart beat against her bare palm, rapid thrumming in sync with his kisses.

_“You keep it warm enough in here?”_

_Brienne supposed it was meant to be a joke, but Jaime’s face lacked any semblance of that mischievous cockeyed grin she had grown accustomed to during their more lackadaisical days of travel. He sounded nearly breathless, the words strained and...pent-up._

_Removing a layer of clothing did little to help the situation at hand, and Brienne felt her stomach dip in the same way it did in her most private moments. When the windows were shut and her chamber secluded, when the pillows were thick enough to muffle Jaime’s name coming out of her mouth._

The bed was only a handful of paces behind them. Brienne knew this because she had memorized every inch of the room in case of an emergency. Jaime knew this because, well, he had had his eyes on it from the moment he entered her chamber. His hands fell to her hips, kissing her in a way that nudged her closer to the bed. His thumbs ran over her skin there, surprised to find it so smooth. She was all calluses and muscle in the few spots that weren’t covered by armor, and although he felt her abs tighten under his touch, the flesh there remained soft. 

They fell onto the bed rather clumsily. Brienne was not used to keeping her eyes closed for this long, and she was not sure if the drink or his lips were the cause of her head starting to spin.

Jaime let out a low groan and captured her lower lip with his teeth, biting just enough to hear her take in a sharp breath. His hand reached up to grab her wrists and pin them above her head. But before he had a chance, Brienne laced her fingers through his and squeezed involuntarily. 

He felt himself smiling as they kissed. There were so many reasons that Brienne was not like Cersei. Too many to count. And believe him, Jaime had tried. Cersei would let him play his little dominant game, so long as she received more pleasure that way. But Brienne was his equal in all of this; their clasped hands proved that more than words ever could.

_“You know the first thing I learned in the North?” The words tasted sour in Jaime’s mouth, and he nearly spat them out as he said, “I hate the fucking North.”_

_Brienne was not at all fazed by his outburst. She found it rather comforting, something familiar in this situation that was so not._

_“It grows on you,” she said softly._

_The pause was brief, but it was just long enough that Brienne saw that look in his eyes. The same look he had given her after rescuing her from the bear pit. The same look he had given her after making Oathkeeper hers._

_But as soon as it appeared, it was gone, and he turned his back to her again._

_“I don’t want things growing on me.”_

Brienne’s underclothes had too many ties and knots, Jaime concluded. Her pants were wound tighter than a corset, and he cursed under his breath as he tried to remove them. Brienne brushed his hands away, the same way that she had removed her own shirt. 

“You hardly know your way around a pair of trousers,” she joked, a rarity but every time more beautiful than the last.

“I’m quite caught up it seems,” said Jaime, his voice muffled against her neck as he began planting seering, slow kisses to the skin there. 

She smelled like pine and vaguely of sweat. And the faintest hint of something else. Vanilla? Jasmine? Jaime wasn’t sure. 

“Are you wearing perfume, Wench?” asked Jaime, pulling back to look her in the eyes.

The nickname Jaime had used originally as an insult quickly dissolved into something that Jaime and only Jaime could use. He’d sooner behead a man for speaking of her in such a fashion. And as annoying as it was at first, Brienne had quickly found herself quite keen on the name, another thing that Jaime reserved only for her. 

Brienne felt her face flush at his question. She supposed Sansa might have allowed her a peek into her cabinet of perfumes. Most of them smelled sickly sweet or far too floral, but there was a little bottle in the back of the cabinet that smelled so faint Brienne wasn’t sure it had a scent at all, at first. Sansa made an offhand remark about only detecting the scent up close, and dabbed just enough on her fingers to apply it to Brienne’s neck. She had felt stupid at the time, but with Jaime so close, she allowed herself to be slightly grateful for the encounter after all.

“It’s nothing,” said Brienne quickly. The “Do you like it?” that she murmured afterwards was so quiet Jaime almost didn’t catch it.

Almost.

Jaime felt a grin tug at his lips again. “I’ll show you.”

His hand slid underneath her trousers and Brienne gasped as the roughness of his thumb brushed against her womanhood. Jaime hissed out a breath, surprised by how wet she already was. 

_“You sound quite jealous,” said Brienne of Jaime’s bringing up Tormund._

_Jaime didn’t remember when the pangs of jealousy started, only that they were definitely there and definitely strong. If Jaime had his way, he would send Tormund so far North the freefolk wouldn’t even be able to find him._

_There had never been a threat for her affection before. Even Renly, the first man Brienne had ever loved and the only man who had shown her true kindness before Jaime, was not interested in her. And Brienne supposed that Tormund was nice, but rough. And not in the way that Jaime was rough. Jaime was rugged, where Tormund was wild._

_“I do…” Another pause. A realization. His heart thunking into his stomach. “Don’t I?”_

And here Jaime was now, circling his finger around her clit, petty things like jealousy thrown out the window and into the falling Winterfell snow. She undoubtedly wanted him, the mewls she was trying to hold back were evident enough of that.

“Jaime - I - ” Her words were lost as he curled one finger inside of her.

Jaime remembered his first time. So scared of hurting Cersei yet so reckless at the same time. So afraid. So much shame. The boy then was a fragment of a shadow compared to the man that he now saw in the mirror. And he knew how to pleasure a woman. 

Brienne took a moment to adjust to the foreign feeling. She was rigidly still underneath him and then Jaime arched his finger in such a way that her hips leaned up towards his. He captured her lips with his own once again, swallowing the sounds she was making.

“By the gods, you’ll be the death of me,” Jaime growled, as one of Brienne’s trembling hands grasped at him over his trousers.

_Two undershirts clumped together in a pile on the floor. Brienne was vaguely aware of the chill against her skin, but it was not the cold that was making gooseflesh rise on her arms. Jaime was so close that she could feel his breath on her cheeks, smell his familiar scent that could only be described as Jaime Lannister and the faintest hint of alcohol._

_“I’ve never slept with a knight before,” he murmured._

_Brienne’s stomach flip flopped. Her mouth suddenly felt too dry. But he was staring at her bare breasts half in awe and half wanton desire, so she had no choice but to trust that he desired her as much as she desired him._

_“I’ve never slept with anyone before,” she admitted._

_Jaime inched closer and the gap between them suddenly felt like miles._

_“Then you have to drink,” he said. “Those are the rules.”_

_Brienne waited for a moment with baited breath, the fire in her stomach spreading to her thighs and licking upwards like a torch to parchment._

_“I told you I -”_

_And before she could finish whatever half-formed sentence her muddled mind could think up, his lips were on hers for the first time._

Jaime strained against his trousers, wishing nothing more than to take off the goddamn fabric separating him from her. But everything in it’s time, he reminded himself. She would do it when she was ready. She was resilient in everything she did and wholly committed to her tasks.

“I want you,” she said, much more confidently than Jaime expected.

He looked at her as she undid the ties on his pants. She was chewing her lower lip in concentration, and he wondered what she would think when she finally saw all of him. He had never had to worry about such a thing before, but it was far too late to get sheepish on her now.

“I’ve never -” she started, as she clutched onto the last piece of string that needed untying.

“Me either,” said Jaime earnestly. “You could give me one look and say ‘fuck off.’”

Brienne let a laugh bubble out of her throat, and the sound made Jaime feel as though a tirade of butterflies were suddenly waging war inside of his stomach. He chuckled along with her and reached in to kiss her cheek.

The contact made her freeze, and she brought a hand up to her face to gingerly touch the spot he had kissed. Eyes as blue as the sapphire isles she came from locked with his, and she said as seriously as she could, “I want _you_.”

“I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything right now,” said Jaime.

He shrugged his trousers down to his ankles and then to the floor, and Brienne took in the sight of him. His hips, dipping narrowly into a curly golden patch of hair - a true lion through and through - and then...well, Brienne supposed she didn’t have anything to compare to. 

Jaime thought about opening his mouth to let out some sort of sarcastic retort, but Brienne’s face said more than him teasing her ever could. So instead he positioned himself in between her thighs, keeping his eyes locked on hers all the while.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

“Yes,” she breathed.

As he pushed himself inside of her, he watched what he would remember for the rest of his life. Her lips parted, swollen from kissing, and her chin tipped towards the ceiling. And for all of her more masculine features, she looked nearly angelic underneath him. He took his time, allowing her time to adjust and admittedly he already felt unbearably good inside of her. She was tight and warm, and he shuddered, tightening his grip on the sheets with his good hand.

Brienne’s arms found their way around his neck and she grasped at his back muscles as he began to thrust inside of her, fingernails tracing over scars that she knew the origin of and others that she did not. The feeling was so overwhelming that part of her worried she might faint. So instead she simply kissed him as hungrily as he had kissed her before, warding off the dizziness by drowning in him.

“Gods,” Jaime cursed in her ear. “This wretched hand.”

Brienne opened her eyes and realized that he had been holding his entire body up with his good hand. Some primordial instinct kicked in and she began to urge him to sit. He gave her a look of confusion, but followed her lead. And soon enough she was on top, barring either side of his head with her arms and clutching onto the headboard as she began to move.

He bucked his hips upwards, grabbing her hips and rolling them on top of him. She might not have technique, but surely she could make up for that with stamina. The dull ache of her virginity was quickly fading, and she felt something coming to a head inside of her.

“Oh!” She was breathless, and her stomach muscles suddenly clenched. “J-Jaime!”

He smothered her moans with another kiss, feeling the way she pulsated around him as she came. 

“When you...do that…” Jaime grunted in between thrusts. “I…”

The words died on his tongue as she ground her hips down on top of him. He felt himself nearing the edge, shaky and uneven thrusts coming in bursts nearly animalistic. And before he could completely lose himself inside of her, he managed to pull out, releasing on her exposed stomach and, regrettably, the bedsheets.

His jaw went slightly slack and Brienne found herself staring at him in awe. 

“I suppose it’s been awhile,” Jaime admitted.

“I wouldn’t have known the difference,” said Brienne, and with some semblance of newfound confidence, she pulled him in for another kiss.

“Why did we wait so long to do this?” Jaime asked, after giving her those long, slow post-coital kisses he had always secretly dreamt of but wouldn’t dare voice out loud.

Brienne laughed. “Because I was Wench and you were Kingslayer.”

Jaime smiled. “And now you call me _Jaime_. Quite gorgeously, too.”

Brienne flushed and stood to turn away from him. “I’ll gladly switch back to Kingslayer, if you like,” she teased.

“Perhaps next time you can,” said Jaime, knowing that if he had his way, there would be many more ‘next times’ in the future.


End file.
